by Peter Hart
I determined to continue the advance on Kut, but it is my distinct duty to point out that it is a most precarious undertaking, for which I, of course, accept full responsibility as I consider the situation demands a supreme effort to relieve Townshend.13
Lieutenant General Sir Fenton Aylmer, Headquarters, Tigris Corps
It wasn’t just the grimly efficient Turkish forces that were hindering Aylmer’s progress. The weather broke, lashing his troops with freezing rain. Medical arrangements broke down again and Mesopotamia became a hell for the wounded.
In January Nixon was invalided back to India but his baleful influence on the campaign still remained. His replacement in charge of the IEF ‘D’ was General Sir Percy Lake, who had been Chief of General Staff in India and was deeply implicated in Nixon’s ambitious plans. During all these heroic efforts the Kut garrison was able to contribute nothing; the Turks may not have been able to break in, but at the same time nor could Townshend’s men break out. Given the imminence of the annual floods in March, which would greatly impede relief operations, Aylmer, prodded on by Lake, decided not to await the arrival of further reinforcements in the form of the 13th Division, which had been involved in the later stages of the Gallipoli Campaign. On 8 March he launched another frontal attack against the Dujaila Redoubt, a continuation of the Es Sinn positions on the west bank of the Tigris. This, too, was a total disaster. Aylmer had tried various diversionary and flanking tactics, but he was not a lucky general as Townshend had been. Even where he achieved tactical surprise it was often undermined by an insistence on sticking to the defined programme, which allowed the Turks to regroup. Moreover, the Turkish resistance was nowhere near as friable as it had been in 1915. Even when sections of the redoubt were breached the Turks launched successful counter-attacks and so it had to be done all over again. British efforts became more and more frantic, but the Turks held firm. There was nothing new, no tactical innovations, just hard slog for very little gain – and an awful lot of losses. A few days later Aylmer was sacked and command was handed over to the newly promoted Lieutenant General George Gorringe.
It is incongruous that even as these terrible sacrifices were being made to rescue the Kut garrison, Townshend discovered that there was a great deal more food than he had originally contended. This reflects badly on the original scaremongering estimates, which were belatedly revealed as the product of shoddy staff work.
No accurate account was made of all food supplies available; nor were they seized. In our village there were, lying in the open and in huts, quite 400 tons of barley and wheat and not until March did Supply and Transport bestir themselves about this – by which time two floods had occurred and much had been stolen. Of course our people never anticipated a siege of five months and were always expecting relief in a week or two. Still if Arabs had all been expelled except, say, five hundred coolies for digging, etc. – and if every pound of food had been rigorously collected and the whole force put on half rations from December 3rd, we could have lasted for 6 to 8 months, and would have given time for an overwhelming force to collect.14
Major Ernest Walker, Indian Medical Service, attached to 120th Rajputana Infantry Regiment
Even as more grain turned up, it was belatedly realised that the horses could be killed for meat, allowing the garrison to last out until early April. But by the time they had discovered this reassuring fact, the damage had already been done by the unnecessary rushing of Aylmer’s relief operations. Indeed, over the first month of the siege, the general health of the men probably improved, such was their dreadful condition on arrival, and the beneficial effect of full rations coupled with a period of relative ease. But, inexorably, the rations declined in both quantity and quality, with the meat portion being made up from bullocks, mules and horses. The artillery officers kept their personal chargers till very last.
Poor Don Juan has taken his last hedge! I have hitherto managed extend his reprieve, but today the order came. I gathered his last feed of grass myself. His companions stood by him trembling as the quick shot despatched one after another. Not so he! Now and then he stamped, but otherwise stood perfectly still. I asked the NCO to be careful that his first bullet was effective and to tell me when it was over. I kissed Don on the cheek ‘Goodbye!’ He turned to watch me go. Shortly afterwards they brought me his black tail, as I asked for a souvenir. Strange as it may seem we ate his heart and kidneys for dinner, as they are now reserved for owners. I am sure he would have preferred that I, rather than another, should do so.15
Lieutenant Edward Mousley, 82nd Battery, Royal Field Artillery
Many Indian troops refused to eat horse meat for religious reasons and suffered accordingly. But those who suffered worst of all were the Arab occupants of Kut – these truly were nobody’s children as far as all sides were concerned.
The Arab children make their appearance in groups wailing piteously. Once the babes in their mothers’ arms used to cry the whole day long, but the unfortunates are probably since gone. The Arab population has been dying by the hundreds and they look dreadfully shrunken and gaunt. Arabs continued to wait around the butchery for horse bladders on which to float downstream. They are shot at by the Turks, who want them to stay on here and eat our food, or else they are killed by hostile Arabs. Every night they go down and a little later one hears their cries from the darkness.16
Lieutenant Edward Mousley, 82nd Battery, Royal Field Artillery
As the weeks turned into months, the situation inside Kut grew increasingly serious and a terrible decline set in towards the end of March.
Up to this time the men were moderately cheerful and in fair spirits. One saw, however, how deeply they were disappointed each time the relief failed. From this time onwards there was a rapid lowering of stamina, vitality, physical condition and health generally to the end of the siege. When Kut capitulated the whole garrison was in an exceedingly low state of health. During the last month of the siege, men at fatigues, such as trench-digging, after ten minutes work had to rest a while, and go at it again; men on sentry-go would drop down, those carrying loads would rest every few hundred yards; men availed themselves of every opportunity of lolling about or lying down. There were instances of Indians returning from trench duty in the evening seemingly with nothing the matter, who laid down and were found dead in the morning – death due to starvation asthenia. Men in such a low state of vitality can stand little in the shape of illness – an attack of diarrhoea that they would have got rid of in a day or so at the beginning of the siege, often ended fatally – all recuperative power had gone. At the end of the siege I doubt whether there was a single person equal to a 5-mile march carrying his equipment.17
Colonel Patrick Hehir, Indian Medical Service
Trapped in an insanitary, disease-ridden enclave plagued by dysentery and diarrhoea, scurvy, malaria and pneumonia, and with few medical facilities, the troops had been rendered incapable of serious military action.
Having taken over operations, Gorringe found himself as hard-pressed for time as Aylmer had been. He was forced to try a frontal attack on the eastern bank of the Tigris, using the newly arrived 13th Division to smash through first the Hanna trenches, then the lines at Fallahiyeh, Sanniyat and finally Es Sinn. Gorringe laid his plans carefully, forgoing an artillery bombardment to secure early surprise in the attack made on 5 April. But the wily Turks had a bigger surprise for him. They fell back from the Hanna lines without resistance, willing to forgo a few miles of desert in order to make the carefully planned assault miss the target. At Fallahiyeh it was a different matter and, although the 13th Division took the Turkish trenches, the casualties were high. Gorringe then sent the 7th Indian Division forward to take over the attack on Sanniyat on 7 April, but a slaughter ensued, with lines of khaki bodies marking where the attacks had broken down. On the morning of 9 April, it was again the turn of the 13th Division, which tried a dawn attack to no avail but more heavy casualties. Amidst the carnage the flood waters were hemming the battling force
s on to narrow strips of land and making a frontal assault the only feasible tactic. With little or no cover, this was little more than suicide.
The Turks hold their line with a good many machine guns and are very well equipped with Very lights. We have superiority of guns and numbers and it’s just these infernal machine guns that make one man as good as a battalion on this level coverless country. If it weren’t for these damned machine guns we’d be in Kut now!18
Second Lieutenant Cuthbert Aston, 8th Welsh Regiment
In desperation the operations switched to the west side of the Tigris, with two more attempts, on 15 and 17 April, to strike at the Bait Asia trenches in front of the Es Sinn lines. But any progress was soon reversed by determined Turkish counter-attacks. So Gorringe returned to the east bank with a final assault by the 7th Indian Division on Sanniyat on 22 April. It was the last forlorn hope; everyone realised that the Kut garrison was on its last legs. But there was to be no fairy tale ending; just another deeply depressing disappointment for the relief force. The Tigris Corps could do no more; the Turks had fought them to a standstill. During the relief operations Aylmer’s and Gorringe’s forces had collectively suffered some 23,000 casualties – approaching twice the effective strength of those trapped in Kut.
In their anxiety the British had tried to drop stores by air – the first time resupply had been attempted in this way, as aircraft still had modest load-carrying capacities.
The first visit of aeroplanes took place bringing sacks of food which they dropped from a good height and we soon knew that this was the beginning of a new scheme for enabling us to hold out longer. At first thought it appeared ridiculous to think of feeding a starving garrison of our size with food dropped by a handful of aeroplanes, but short calculations of weight carried each trip, etc., soon revised ideas and the clamour was as to why it had not been started much earlier. It was only in the mornings and evenings that the aeroplanes could fly, owing to the heat which overheated their engines and the number of trips per day seemed fearfully disappointing. The Turks were not long in grasping what was up and forced the machines to fly high, but double-sacking was strong enough in most cases. One native had the ill luck to be hit by a falling sack and was so injured that he died. A few sacks fell in the river and some had to be marked down and recovered after dark but the quantity eventually proved enough to keep us going until 29th April.19
Major Alexander Anderson, Volunteer Artillery Battery, Indian Army
The amounts being dropped were derisory compared to the needs of the garrison; indeed, the air missions were more precursors of the future than of any real practical assistance to Townshend. A final desperate attempt on the night of 24 April to despatch 270 tons of supplies aboard the steamer Julnar ended in predictable failure and, with that, all hope was gone. There was no food left in Kut.
Townshend was forced to bow to the inevitable on 26 April. He requested a six-day armistice and commenced to parley over surrender terms. Some of the negotiations seem fanciful to the modern eye, with Townshend offering the Turks £1,000,000 and envisioning a scenario whereby his men give their parole and so are allowed to march out with colours and spend the rest of the war in India, having promised they would never fight on a Turkish front again. All his requests were rejected out of hand. What need did the Turks have for negotiations? They sought, and ultimately extracted, an unconditional surrender from Townshend on 29 April 1916.
Before daylight further orders came to destroy the guns and everything remaining of any military value. We had no desire that the Turks should get anything out of us and we set to with a will. With the help of the rest of the cartridges all the leather work, rifles (after being well-broken), saddles, tents, directors, telescopes, telephones, compasses, papers etc., were burnt in a trench. The Supply and Transport meantime were at work next door shooting the few remaining animals and burning the carts. Last of all we destroyed the guns – a slab of gun cotton in the breech which was tamped and closed and another slab in the muzzle – and there was precious little left of them to call guns. Having a spare slab for the last gun, it got a double charge and most of one side of it flew through the air and landed through the roof of an Arab house 2–300 yards away!20
Major Alexander Anderson, Volunteer Artillery Battery, Indian Army
However defiant they were, when the white flag fluttered above Kut it marked the truly humiliating capitulation of around 12,500 British and Indian soldiers. While Townshend himself was treated well and most of his officers were treated reasonably, the other ranks faced a dreadful ordeal. Already weakened, their treament at the hand of the Turks was at best was uncaring and sometimes veered into downright brutality.
At Shumran we joined the rest of the garrison encircled by armed sentries on a desolate and completely bare strip of land close to the Tigris. We had been without food or drink since the previous day and like castaways were without protection from the elements – there being no provision whatsoever for even our most simple needs. When at last we were issued with sour and mildewed Turkish ration biscuits, devoured somewhat ravenously to ward off the pangs of hunger, our stomachs were in no fit condition for such treatment. Fortunately, for some like myself it resulted in violent sickness, but in not a few cases men died during the following night in frightful agony from gastroenteritis. There were many such deaths during the next few days and it was unnerving having to watch their bodies taken away.21
Private Harold Wheeler, 1/4th Hampshire Regiment
Things would get worse during the long march to Baghdad and beyond.
A daily trek of not more than 10 or 12 miles along the featureless dusty desert track seemed never ending as with parched lips, burning brows and aching limbs we struggled to keep on the move. Even when it was absolutely necessary to fall out to satisfy the call of nature, the mounted Kurds would adopt a menacing attitude shouting, ‘Yallah! Yallah! Imshee!’ and what sounded like ‘Bollocks!’ making indiscriminate use of the whip to force us to our feet. Those suffering from dysentery or other ailments, obliged to drop out on the march, were shewn no compassion whatsoever by the escort and if unable to catch up with the column were left by the wayside to die, or worse still to be butchered by Arab brigands hovering around, who would strip them of their uniform and clothing. One day on the march I noticed the body of a British soldier, completely naked, by the side of the track and witnessed a Turkish officer placing a topee over his abdomen – possibly the only humane act known to have been performed on this terrible march.22
Private Harold Wheeler, 1/4th Hampshire Regiment
Thousands would die through what could best be described as ‘aggravated neglect’ by the Turks.
THE CONSEQUENCES OF HUBRIS could not have been clearer than the ashes of the Mesopotamian Campaign as viewed from the perspective of May 1916. It was fought with insufficient troops and inadequate logistical arrangements; a campaign which ignored the unique terrain characteristics of the region and was underpinned by the presumption that the Turks were not capable of serious opposition. Britain had to face up to a second shattering defeat by the Turkish Army: first at Gallipoli, now in Mesopotamia. The British Empire was left with no choice but to strike back. On the Western Front the Battle of Verdun was raging, the Battle of the Somme was about to start, the Battle of Jutland had been a disappointment, the Salonika Campaign was faltering, so the British already had plenty to worry about, but the future of the Empire in India and the Middle East demanded that the dire situation in Mesopotamia must be improved as soon as possible.
The British did what they should have done from the start if they had been serious about the capture of Baghdad – they reorganised their transport and supply system from top to bottom. This was a massive undertaking, extremely costly and demanded a huge allocation of scarce resources to the campaign. But they had no choice if British prestige was to be restored. The War Office took control of the campaign from the rather more financially hamstrung and incompetent Indian administration in Delhi. Meanw
hile, in April 1916, Major General George MacMunn was appointed Inspector General of Communications. He was appalled by what he found on his arrival at Basra.
As we entered the anchorage, a melancholy sight appeared, twenty ocean steamers loaded with supplies and military stores lay awaiting unloading and had been so for weeks, so devoid was Basra of wharfage, port labour or port craft to handle all that was now pouring into the river. The staff in India in modern times had not studied modern movement and logistics, while even at the War Office the organisation of longshore and river service was only partially understood.23
Major General Sir George MacMunn, Headquarters, IEF ‘D’
MacMunn brought out specialists to revitalise – or, more often, create – the requisite logistical necessities. Thus a prominent consulting engineer, Sir George Buchanan, was sent out to organise the port facilities Basra needed if it was to act as the base for such a major expedition. Land was reclaimed, navigational channels and harbours were deepened, jetties and warehouses were built. The Indian Labour Corps was brought in to do the manual work and release troops for the front. Huge reinforcement camps appeared and several military hospitals were established. A special class of steamer was designed and constructed at great expense specifically for conditions on the Tigris: shallow draught and capable of dealing with strong currents. The results of these endeavours, P-50 steamers, would begin to arrive in late 1916 and proved invaluable. As more and more barges and steamers were pressed into service the amount of tonnage carried forward increased massively while the evacuation of the sick and wounded improved in tandem. Meanwhile, a railway line was constructed to alleviate the river congestion in the narrows between Qurna and Amara, while further upriver a light railway helped move supplies from Sheikh Sa’ad to behind the front line area. Gradually a proper metalled road with bridges over the innumerable creeks was constructed, pushing forward from Basra right up to the front. A company of transport lorries was soon toiling back and forth. The situation was by no means perfect: the line of communications was still overly long and prone to disruption, but at least it was not the farce that had so badly hampered operations in 1915.
